


Dinner with Nono

by elanor_pam



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elanor_pam/pseuds/elanor_pam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takayama Ichirou works part-time as waiter in Namimori's most expensive restaurant. He's also a student of Nami-chuu, and the last person he expected to have as a guest in such a high-class establishment was Dame-Tsuna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner with Nono

**Author's Note:**

> How is Tsuna seen by other people? This is my favorite question in the series. School mates, mafia rivals, teachers, family members, even his own group, they probably have completely different views of him. The views which fascinate me most, however, are of those people who already have a misinformed opinion of him and find themselves forced to re-evaluate it. Writing this amused me greatly, all the more because the OC and Tsuna end up never actually interacting at all.

Takayama Ichirou had managed to land himself a fairly cushy job. After spending part of his childhood in Germany, then in America, and lastly in Finlandia, he was fluent, or nearly so, in an unexpected variety of languages. He took great pride in his linguistic prowess, and so, when he found himself in need of a part-time job, he didn't think twice about applying as a waiter to the poshest restaurant in Namimori, located in the poshest hotel in the area. He passed the basic requirements with flying colors and worked hard on his training - and, even though he only worked four hours per evening, he earned nearly half as much as his father, tips included.

Being the only Finnish speaker in the restaurant staff also meant he was in high demand whenever Finnish tourists and dignitaries were in town. It was rare, but it happened. All in all, he could see a bright future ahead of him in luxury catering.

That night he wasn't in any particular demand, though. It wasn't tourist season, and most of the guests were Korean or English speakers, of which their staff never fell short. Being the most junior waiter, he made sure to help his seniors carry trays or wheel carts, but that night, he spent most of his working hours reading a Finnish book to brush up on his skills.

The other waiters seemed particularly curious about an elderly guest and his dining companion, though, and he found himself joining them in taking a peek through the kitchen door. Takenomoto and Uesugi were doing the serving at their table - Italian, then. It was the only language they had in common.

Ichirou found himself staring at the young man who sat with his back turned to them, though. Something about him struck the young waiter as awfully familiar - the hair, the set of shoulders, the mannerisms, the way he ducked his head shyly as the old man smiled indulgently at him...

Yes, that looked an awful lot like Dame-Tsuna. Ichirou would know - he'd pushed Tsuna around a number of times, and could pick out that loser stance anywhere in a crowd. He hadn't seen much of the kid in a while, though, as he'd decided to take his studies more seriously for the sake of his job and Tsuna had been cutting even more often that last year.

Whatever Tsuna would be doing in Namimori's poshest hotel with an Italian gentleman, wearing what looked a hell of a lot like an Armani suit, he couldn't even begin to fathom.

"Hey," he whispered to the head waiter, who had been glaring at his back with disapproval all over his face. "Who is that Italian gentleman? I've never seen him before."

The old man eyeballed him for a few seconds before waving him further inside the worker’s lounge and towards an unoccupied table, where they would be farther from the guests' ears. "There's a lot of gossip concerning that gentleman," he started, a warning tone in his voice, "but you know I don't approve of rumor-mongering, so I'm going to stick to what I know as a fact."

He glanced down to the tabletop, scratching behind his ear the way he usually did when he found himself at a loss for words. Ichirou waited patiently as the old man struggled with himself, but was rewarded as he raised his head and dropped his bomb, all while staring straight into his eyes.

"He's Timoteo Vongola, the richest and most powerful man in Italy."

Ichirou's eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he took those words in - _Dame-Tsuna was eating dinner with the most powerful man in freaking Italy!_

After a couple of seconds, though, awe gave way to confusion.

"...I've never heard of him."

"You wouldn't have," said the Head Waiter, patiently. "The truly powerful have no need to parade around as celebrities. He's a discreet man, that much I know."

"Then..." Ichirou hesitated - he couldn't very well ask 'why is he eating with that kid', it would offend the old man’s non-gossipping sensibilities. "Does he have business here in Namimori? Is he investing in Japan or something like that?"

"I have heard of Vongola investments in Namimori, yes," said the head waiter, gravely, "but only in rumors, and I don't put much stock in them. No," he trailed on, as if preparing another bomb, "what I do know is that he's reconnecting with some extended family members who live in our city."

Well, that makes sense, thought Ichirou to himself, Tsuna just isn't a businessman by any stretch of the imagination-- only that meant that somehow Dame-Tsuna was related to _the most powerful man in Italy_.

"Yes," the Head Waiter nodded, as if approving of Ichirou's utterly gobsmacked expression. "A common ancestor moved to Japan many years ago, or so says their family tradition. And so, since three of his children have passed away and the fourth is badly behaved, he's expressed desire to make that young man over there his heir."

Ichirou's expression reached entirely new levels of disbelief.

"Bu-- but--" he gaped. No way, absolutely no way, that just wasn't possible. Tsuna was a complete disaster at everything he did. That man couldn't possibly be so blind as to not see it and dump the title of _most powerful man in Italy_ on the lap of freaking _Dame-Tsuna_.

Through the denial, though, was rising steadily the fear that, someday, he might have to serve food to the kid he used to bully. The memory came, unbidden, of having pushed Tsuna into a puddle in first year and then stepped onto his head - lightly, because he hadn't had the guts to make it really hurt, but he had stepped on it anyway. Oh, _God_. If Tsuna ever--

"In fact," continued the Head Waiter, oblivious to Ichirou's rising panic, "It is tradition in the Vongola Family to learn Japanese, and so Vongola-sama is actually quite fluent." He nodded to himself again. "We've served him before, in fact, though usually for lunch, which is why you’ve never met him. I serve him myself in such occasions, as appropriate to a man of his station. He's very polite and pleasant."

"Ah--," gaped Ichirou, still grappling with the mental image of Evil Businessman Tsuna spilling soup on himself as a ploy to accuse Poor Innocent Waiter Ichirou of ruining his Armani suit.

"But today he brought that young man instead of his usual associates, and asked to be served by Takenomoto and Uesugi to help the boy practice his Italian."

Evil Businessman Tsuna was still in the process of suing Innocent Waiter Ichirou when the latter processed that last sentence. The image poofed into oblivion. Ichirou's heart stopped racing, and he let go of the breath he'd been holding. He sat back against his chair, and allowed his body to relax.

Tsuna would never learn Italian. He could barely string two foreign words together. Even his grades in Japanese were barely acceptable.

The head waiter was staring at his display with a raised eyebrow, though, and Ichirou quickly put together a stock of what he could tell the old man in return. After all, he'd gossiped about the Vongola guy even though he hated gossip and all.

"That kid goes to my school," he clarified, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe at his sweaty hands. It was the head waiter's turn to look surprised, and Ichirou's turn to nod at him. "His name is Sawada Tsunayoshi. He's always seemed like any other kid - very shy and clumsy, though, very soft-spoken." Crap in all subjects, he thought to himself, but decided not to add. Too many negative traits, and the old man would think he was _rumor-mongering_.

"Anyway," he continued, "when I spotted him with an unknown foreign man in such an expensive place, I just..." he shrugged as vaguely as possible, "...worried."

The head waiter's face turned nearly purple. "How dare you even _think_ \--"

Ichirou raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. "I had no idea, sir," he said, humbly. "All I know is that Tsuna is weak and easily bullied. I know our establishment doesn't condone such things, but there are still many cases of teenagers being taken advantage of out there, and quite frankly, Tsuna has always had _victim_ written all over him."

All of that had only just occurred him, though. And now that it had, the thought of Tsuna being _mollified_ by a creepy old tourist in his workplace filled him with a much greater horror than the idea of Evil Businessman Tsuna, who was in hindsight entirely unrealistic.

The head waiter seemed to mull over his words before patting his shoulder in understanding. "I hope you take good care of him, then," he said.

"I haven't," Ichirou confessed, staring mournfully at the chip on the table which had condemned it to the waiter's lounge. "Not always."

"Then do so from now on," said the old man, solemnly. "You might be serving him dinner someday.”

Ichirou nodded, entirely too aware of that particular fact. Tsuna might be weak-willed and crap at everything he did, but no one could accuse him of being a bad person. True, sometimes he'd run around the school in his boxers, snarling about something (presumably about whoever kept stealing his clothes), but the worst he'd ever heard about him was some shenanigans involving Mochida's hair, who was a jerk anyway and probably had it coming.

Yes, one could do a lot worse than Tsuna for a heir, and depending on that man's fourth son, he might not come across as a bad choice at all.

The waiters weren’t wandering by the door as often as they had been, the spectacle of Italy's most powerful man grooming his maybe-heir having apparently lost its appeal. Ichirou took the opportunity to turn on his chair and peek back out of the unblocked door, and caught a glimpse of a grin on Tsuna's face--

And suddenly he became aware that all along Tsuna had been talking and smiling and moving just the same way he did when surrounded by Popular Jock Yamamoto, or Loner Creep Gokudera, or Hyper Boxer Ryouhei. He was friendly and perfectly at ease while talking to _the most powerful man in Italy_. Who was positively glowing with pride as he smiled down to the boy.

Ichirou was suddenly aware of the fact that he didn't know Tsuna at all, and had absolutely no idea what he actually did when he wasn't at school. The next time the boy skipped school for two weeks - should he assume Tsuna was chilling out in an Italian mansion?

And how long had Tsuna known about his rich-ass relative, and the fortune he might one day inherit? That was the question that stumped him the most. He'd barely paid attention to Tsuna, all the more after stopping his bullying, but the kid didn't seem to have changed at all for all he knew.

Ichirou didn't think it possible. If -his- uncle had been the most powerful man in some country, he'd... well, maybe he'd keep it a secret. But if he were as weak, pathetic, and bullied by both students and teachers as Tsuna were, he'd brandish that fact around like a light-saber. As far as he knew, Tsuna was still pushed around, though slightly redeemed in the eyes of schoolmates by the occasional feat of daring - but still, it was surprising that he’d handle a sudden inheritance so gracefully. Maybe Tsuna was the academically stupid but emotionally mature sort.

Soon Uesugi was wheeling the main course's cart back in, smiling in private amusement, and the head waiter spoke to him, jostling Ichirou out of his reverie.

"How is the young man, Uesugi?"

“ _Adorable_ ," he said, emphatically. "Absolutely _huggable_. Everything about him screams _fluffy teddy bear_." He piled the plates and trays on the counter for the dishwasher to take. "I would hate to make business with him. He’d show me one smile and I'd agree to any terms he gave."

The head waiter merely raised a disapproving eyebrow at Uesugi's weakness towards cute young men. Ichirou was again confused: huggable and Tsuna simply didn't go together in a sentence, though he could accept that harmlessness might look good on the right person. Maybe that was why Kyoko hung out with him.

And now he was slightly pissed off at Tsuna.

Uesugi just laughed at their expressions. "He's having trouble with tenses and gender articles, but so did I. It's a hurdle every student of latin languages must overcome. Signore Vongola thinks he's doing well, and I would agree if he asked me.”

"That's good to hear," said the head waiter, smiling indulgently to himself. "Watching that young man, he really does come across as a very gentle soul. I'm sure he'll be good company to Vongola-sama."

Ichirou didn't say anything, merely turning back to take another good look at the table. What he'd just heard just didn't align with reality as he knew it - Tsuna, doing well at a foreign language? Not possible.

Now that he was taking a good long look, though, maybe that kid had slightly straighter shoulders, a prouder, more confident set to his back, a sort of unpolished grace to his movements.

Maybe that was just Tsuna's cousin or something. Maybe he just really looked a lot like Tsuna.

He shrugged to himself, but couldn't shrug the matter off his mind with the same easy. Was Tsuna the heir to a crazy rich Italian gentleman or not? Was he still the same useless, worthless Tsuna he remembered, or had he grown in the time they hadn't been in contact?

Maybe he should be really nice and polite to Tsuna from now on, just in case.

 

When the other waiter walked off with their empty cups, Tsuna allowed his shoulders to relax just a little bit. He'd somehow managed to request a dessert which was a girl, but with an ingredient which was a boy. He also asked for a drink which was also a boy, but which required a different article because... because something. Italian was an _insane_ language.

Timoteo merely grinned at him behind his mustache. “<You look tense,>” he said. It took Tsuna a couple of seconds to parse the Italian words.

He considered ignoring the comment as a mean-spirited jab at his obvious discomfort, but thought better of it; then he tried to put together a coherent sentence in Italian to answer him with, but gave up. "Someone is staring at the back of my head," he mumbled.

"Mmm," hummed Timoteo, gravely. "<Get used to it, Tsuna. It's called awe. Repeat with me.> _Fascino_." He made a big show of pronouncing the word slow and carefully, with exaggerated mouth movements.

" _Paura_ ," said Tsuna instead, slow and carefully, staring straight into his eyes.

"<Not here>," he said, softly. "<Not in Namimori.>"

"Someone in there smells of fear," murmured Tsuna, serious.

"Then," said Timoteo, "someone in there knows _you_. But hush with your japanese," he continued, interrupting Tsuna's exclamation of surprise. " <Our dessert is on its way.>"

Tsuna sighed to himself, but forced out a smile and a quiet word of thanks as Uesugi deposited a gorgeous-looking, mouth-watering _Crostata di Fichi e Pere_ in front of him.


End file.
